When the power goes off   in the mountains we snuggled close, letting the electricity of bodies light up  the room brighter  than any fire...

  When they tell you   to make art of your pain they don’t tell you that you’re going to feel it so deeply that it rewrites your insides  li...

I took your words as  promises, as plans,  but they were just possibilities  — April PAD Day 6 - a blank poem 

Catching up with you is  like catching butterflies elusive and brief but beautiful  __ April PAD day 4 - “catch up” poem 

have I let myself  be rooted in the  shade of others?  Have I turned my leaves  toward any shiny object  mistaking it for sun?  Do the twist...

when autumn arrives and leaves begin  to fall i  remember that i  am the tree not the golden  leaf spinning gloriously  to the ground

You worship me as your goddess pray that I’ll save you  kneel at my altar until I  fall from grace when your prayers are not answered my who...

The voices of the dead cannot speak, but if they could they'd  rise up through the throats of the jury  "guilty," convict the ...

Inspired by Resmaa Menakem's work and teachings ... and a recent podcast he was on Your body was  not your own it served at  the pleasu...

Our wires haven’t been crossed the power lines   are in completely different counties — April PAD Day 3 prompt: communication 

Would you love me more   if this body was thinner  his thinning hair thicker her thickness less sexy their sexiness more tame his tameness m...

Hi, my name is not nearly as important what you call me  behind closed doors, closed  minds, or closed hearts  where you fetishize an  exoti...

It was another good date We went back to his place I pulled him close we kissed we groped we fumbled It was a good time Until thing...

Her soft belly and sagging breasts adorn museum walls we scurry past embarrassed by her audacity to be fat and adored, a...

the crows outside my window know I feed my dog at 8 a.m. every morning they show up to nibble the leftover kibble and laugh at the g...

There is no  rush, no bliss, no overwhelming wave of love or clarity, just a  phantom buzz in  my pocket pulling me to look m...

Why does that which is supposed to make me strong taste so bitter?

outside my window the bamboo grows high and green reaching for the bits of sun between our buildings snatching just enough to thrive

Brown and black bodies crawl through our alleys like ants at a picnic sifting through the overflow of our wastefulness for the treasur...

I worship at your altar drunk on our communion --- April PAD Day 24 - faith